


Designated Driver

by skytramp



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, alcohol use, hanamiya is drunk, kiyoshi is a bad driver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/skytramp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Whoops.” He heard the voice from the driver’s side say, before bursting into laughter. <i>That’s it,</i> he thought. </p><p>“What the <i>fuck</i> are you doing? Are you <i>trying to get me killed?!</i>” Makoto yelled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Designated Driver

The rain pounded sheets against the dark windshield and if Makoto had been marginally more sober he would have been terrified of the prospect of running off the road. He scooted down farther in the passenger seat, willing the variety of liquid in his stomach to stay put as the driver weaved through the traffic-filled city streets. 

He closed his eyes and seconds later they flew open as the car slammed to a stop, brakes locking and wet rubber sliding on asphalt.

“Whoops.” He heard the voice from the driver’s side say, before bursting into laughter. _That’s it,_ he thought. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing? Are you _trying to get me killed?!_ ” Makoto yelled, turning as much of his body as he could while still belted towards the driver of the car. 

Kiyoshi Teppei laughed again and stretched a long arm over to drape along the top of the passenger seat as the car pulled forward when the light changed. Makoto stared at the arm on the seat as if it had just killed his mother.

“If you don’t put _both_ of your freakish hands back on the steering wheel I swear I’m going to break your arm right now.” he growled and did his best glare, though it was wasted as Kiyoshi was watching traffic.

Kiyoshi lifted his arm, moving it slowly over Hanamiya’s head and adjusting the radio before finally resting his fingers on the bottom of the wheel. He tried not to watch the movement of Kiyoshi’s muscles through the worn basketball jersey he wore. It was hard to see in the refracted street lights through sheets of rain and the soft green glow from the dash lights, but it was enough that he wished he’d never looked.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” Makoto snapped, facing forward again and refusing to look sideways as Kiyoshi took another daring swerve through traffic.

He thought Kiyoshi was smiling when he replied, but he wouldn’t look. 

“Home, of course. You were drunk, you practically begged me for a ride.” The way Kiyoshi said it made it sound as if Hanamiya had been asking for a very _different_ sort of ride and part of him knew he probably had been.

“How do you know where I live?” 

“Who said I was taking you to your home?” Kiyoshi replied quickly and Makoto _knew_ he was smiling now.

 

Ten infuriating minutes later Kiyoshi was unlocking the door to his apartment and Hanamiya was huddled against the wall attempting to get out of the rain. Kiyoshi walked in and left the door open behind him. When Makoto walked in he hovered in the doorway.

“The couch is right there, it’s all yours.” Kiyoshi made a sweeping gesture with his arm. Kiyoshi was entirely too large for this small room and as he stood in the small kitchen that overlooked the living area Makoto thought he looked very much like an adult in a kid’s playhouse. 

Hanamiya walked in, slamming the door unceremoniously behind him and flopped on his back on the couch. He heard the bubbling of a coffeemaker percolating and a few minutes later Kiyoshi was standing in front of him holding a steaming cup.

He opened one eye and suspiciously peered at the mug. When he didn’t take it Kiyoshi set it on the coffee table and sat down in an armchair with his own cup, crossing his legs. Hanamiya closed his eyes again and settled back into the couch cushions, determined to feign sleep.

Just as he thought he’d really drifted off, despite the crackling energy in his nerves just from Kiyoshi’s proximity he heard Kiyoshi clear his throat.

“You know, you ought to drink that, if you don’t want to get a hangover.” 

If his eyes hadn’t already been closed he would have rolled them. 

“Fuck you.” He grumbled.

“Sure.” 

His eyes shot open and he turned to stare at Kiyoshi. He was still seated, legs crossed and sipping his coffee from a cup that was dwarfed by his long fingers. He wore a serene smile, the same he’d been wearing the entire night since Makoto spotted him at the bar. He looked completely at ease. 

“You’re joking.” Hanamiya declared.

“If you say so.” Kiyoshi uncrossed and recrossed his legs before setting his coffee on the table. 

Before he could spend too much time thinking about it Makoto bolted up and crossed the small room to straddle Kiyoshi in his chair. He rested his hands on his wide shoulders, relishing in how hard they felt under his fingers. 

He slammed their lips together, hard, biting at Kiyoshi’s bottom lip as he pulled away and stared him in the eyes.

“You weren’t joking.” Makoto declared, and he knew it was true.

“I don’t joke.” Kiyoshi lied and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> hello
> 
> goodbye 
> 
> (im not confident in my kiyohana whatsoever this is nerve wracking)


End file.
